


Werewolf Batman (Patent Pending)

by AmyArachne



Series: Fics for Clare [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And it has children being kidnapped in it, Derek is grumpy, Erkling's are Hp cannon, I feel like that says something about me, I have no shame, M/M, stiles is a dork, this is the cutest thing i have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyArachne/pseuds/AmyArachne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an Erkling infestation who have been taking children. The pack sets out to get rid of them, while Stiles tries to deal with Derek Hale's complicated eyebrows and not falling on his face every thirty seconds. </p><p>A fic for Clare's 21st. Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Werewolf Batman (Patent Pending)

They have an Erkling infestation. Not Elfling as Stiles originally thought the translation said, not Elk King, which was Issacs dumbs theory. But Erkling. Nasty, short, dirty things that kidnapped and ate children. And not the nice kind of ate either, but the slow roast over a fire as they scream sort of horrific eating. 

It made Stiles feel nauseous just reading about it and he was purposefully not looking at the detailed illustrations. Why did old scholars feel the need to document everything in such gory fashion. You know what wasn’t illustrated? The passage about how Elflings would bathe each other in blessed hotsprings. But horrible little snouted creatures going full Hannibal on some roll polly children, yeah, that’s gotta be in full shaded detail. 

Stiles wad grumbling to himself when he heard his window open, a smirk curling the edge of his lips as he heard someone shout and than fall to the ground. Ha. 

Stiles had begged Deaton for some mountain ash to use for protection and only after a half hour of pestering and arguing had Deaton shoved a jar into his hands and shooed Stiles away with the most evil glare. It was lucky that guy was on their side because for a so called pacifist he had murder eyes. 

After mixing the ash into a can of varnish he painted his window ledge with it, so no stalky werewolf could cross it. Stiles hopped out of his chair and popped his head out the window, grinning at the sight of his favorite stalky werewolf laying like a starfish on the grass. 

“I’ve told you guys that you can use the front door, you know. Windows are a vampire thing anyways.” He could resist snarking, watching with amusement as Derek got up and shook himself off, glaring up at Stiles. It lost some of its impact given Derek was far down and had some grass in his fluffy hair. 

Stiles stepped back to let Derek bound his way up the wall, claws digging into the house as he continued to glare at Stiles through the open window. Stiles’ shit eating grin didn’t move an inch, but he felt his heart start to patter a little bit. A stroke of genius he might have had but he did have to leave the house at some point or another and Derek didn’t look pleased at being denied access. 

Well, Derek never looked pleased about anything so Stiles could hardly tell if he was actually peeved about this. “The, it’s in the varnish. The mountain ash, so it’s like permanently wolf proof.” No reaction, still a deadpan glare, “But, look, I can… undo it. Like, the wood is still gonna burn your hands but I can-“ Stiles reached forward and removed a thin line of wood from the windowsill, effectively breaking the circle, “So you can come in now!” 

Derek snorted and slipped through without touching the wood, which was impressive, and made his muscles bulge nicely and Stiles swallowed hard as he took it in, appreciating the long, strong lines of Derek’s body. Damn. He cleared his throat and replaced the wood, flushing as he look away. He didn’t fancy being torn a new one for wandering eyes. 

Honestly, he didn’t know where he stood with Derek. After they’d killed Peter, fixed Jackson and saved Beacon Hills from a few dozen kinds of big nasties, Stiles had thought eventually they’d be cool. Not friends or anything, Derek didn’t seem to be friends with anyone. He had a begrudging respect for certain people (Scott being the only one Stiles knew of), but he wasn’t buddy buddy. At all. 

“So I guess you’re here about the troll creatures. Well, it turns out they’re called Erklings and the stealing children and leaving their bones thing is completely their MO. Turns out they’re from Germany, and I looked through all the hotel records. A couple from Germany passed through here a couple weeks ago. Erklings are known to lay their eggs in luggage, like bedbugs do, so they get carried to other places. The Erklings must have hatched when the Germans were here, got out of the luggage and ran off into the woods.” 

Stiles was bouncing on the balls of his feet, the information had taken him hours to put together and a lot of fast talking to get into the hotel records. Knowing how they got here was half the fight. Maybe they’d want to go back home, and they could use that. But at least they knew the basic principal of what they were dealing with. 

“How does that help us kill them.” Ah, the classic statement phrased as a question, trademarked by Sourwolf inc. At least the glare was gone now, replaced with a blank look, but his left eyebrow was slightly quirked. Which Stiles had come to learn meant Derek was at least interested in what was going on. The man had the most expressive eyebrows that Stiles had ever seen. 

So far he’d catalogued 36 different meanings behind Derek’s eyebrow placement. ‘Vague intrigued’ was number 17. Stiles had only seen that one a little later on. The first ten were all variants of ‘threatening you’. 

“I haven’t gotten there yet. I have to use a codex to translate the text to Latin and then go through the various possible meaning and crosscheck it against the only english database I have to go on. Sweet, sweet Google. Turns out these things are cannon in the Potterverse, so there’s already Scarheads who have looked into some stuff and-“ He swung his chair around to see Derek’s brows pulled together, “I have completely lost you. Well, no time for slang explanations for you. Look, from what I can see, they die when impaled, burnt, or otherwise harmed like most things.” 

Derek let out a low growl, “We need to be able to catch them to do that.” 

Which was, of course, the root of their problem. Wolves, while strong and fast, weren’t very graceful. Peter was the only one who had managed to get his claws in one, but it had shrieked loudly and spat something like venom in Peter’s eyes. It had taken Creepy Uncle a good few hours to heal and hadn’t it been fun for Stiles trying to get a description out of Mudery Mc Sassyface while his ego was freshly wounded 

“Yeah, well, there’s no info on that yet. I guess we could use live bait but I’m gonna let you be the one to tell Scott that our only course of action is to put a child in harm’s way.” 

Derek’s brows parted, lifting a little into… number 24! Amused! Stiles felt a swell of triumph, which was pathetic really. Like it was a more pathetic pleasure response than when your brain got all happy for finishing another level of candy crush and your poor programmed brain dances to the congratulations music in some false sense of accomplishment. 

But that’s off track. Derek was amused! At Stiles! And pathetic or not, Stiles was going to ride that pride. 

“We could use a basic binding spell but ‘basic’ is still a little too much for me right now. I mean, just putting mountain ash down is about the best of my abilities, at least according to Deaton. And it’s not like Deaton would be willing to come into the woods with us on the off chance we run into these things.” He let out a big, annoyed sigh, “And there’s no mention of the venom stuff they used on Peter, so I don’t want to send any of you in without knowing how much damage it can do.” 

He used one foot to spin himself in slow circles as he spoke, Derek sliding along his peripheral vision again and again until he vanished as Stiles went round and round. But as he faced his desk, he was jolted to a stop, and with a glance he confirmed it was Derek’s hand on his chair. 

Then Derek was leaning over, breath brushing over Stiles’ ear so the teen shivered and his mind was going so many places, so many bad, not good places that Derek could smell and he could not stop it. He was distracted from his sudden thirst by Derek’s other hand coming around and pointing at the screen, which set off Stiles’ ‘protect laptop’ protocols and he slapped at Derek’s big hand. 

“Nu-uh, back away from the screen, you smudge it you clean it buddy and I’m not running out for more spray, that shit is expensive.” 

He returned Derek’s glare with one of his own and grinned in triumph when Derek pulled his hand back and picked up a pen instead to lightly tap at what he was trying to show. 

“What about this. ‘Sealt’.” Derek pronounced the word stiffly, the odd construction of syllables awkward on his tongue, “That means salt. What are they talking about in this passage?” 

Stiles hadn’t gotten to translating that scanned page yet, but he was more shocked that Derek not only noticed something in the huge, dense pages of text but that he bothered to inform the puny human of his thoughts. 

“I haven’t gotten there yet. How the hell do you know proto-Germanic?” He asked with more than a little incredulousness, which he thought was completely warranted, but Derek just looked offended as he stepped away, arms crossing and, oh no. Defensive eyebrows. 

“I have interests and knowing old languages is helpful.” 

Which was… a really simple, logical answer. But still. Whenever Stiles pictured Derek alone, he imagined him A) working out to some awesome and yet angsty montage music, B) brooding in a corner like Batman, or C) Mackin’ on some lady while shirtless. Possible after doing A and B. Reading through codexes and learning languages that only the nerdiest of nerds learn is not what he would have guessed. 

Wouldn’t have been even in his top ten, actually. 

“Ok. Cool.” He bobbed his head awkwardly, pretending to know what the fuck he was doing, as he pulled put the codex and started to input that passage to get it into Latin. It was less than thirty seconds before he took a big breath and swung around to say something else, but Derek was gone. 

He was fucking Batman, all he needed was the pointy ears. 

~ 

Two weeks, two kids, and a dozen late night searches in the woods later, Stiles was exhausted. Between school, helping search the Preserve and all of his translating, he hadn’t slept in almost two days and before that he’d only been catching a couple hours between classes. He didn’t even dare drive to school for fear he’d pass out at a red light or something. He felt like he was constantly in quicksand and if he stopped moving for just one second, he’d go under. 

So stumbling around in the woods at two am, looking under literal rocks and branches for the burrows that these little trolls (literally) liked to make and bring their prey to, was not very much fun. He’d fallen more times than he could count and was cursing under his breath as he leaned against a tree and worked on getting a splinter out of his palm. 

When something closed around his wrist, he yelped and jumped about a foot in the air. Or rather he jerked really hard and nearly fell over, but the evil demon that had grabbed him was kind enough to catch him before he hit the ground. Again. 

The demon must have been a shapeshifter of some sort, because it took on Derek’s grumpy face pretty well. Stiles coughed and tried to straighten but Derek was pulling him up, one hand tight around his injured wrist, the other firm on his waist. Stiles’ hipbones, the teen noted, were just the right way for Derek to be able to rest his thumbs in them, even through the material of his hoody. 

He was so lost in cataloguing how nicely Derek’s hand fit on him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how well the rest of them would fit together, that he didn’t notice what Derek was doing until his lips closed around Stiles’ finger. 

His heart, which had slowly been calming down after his brain realized that the evil forest monster was just Werewolf Batman (Werebat? Wolfman?), jumped right back into overdrive as he watched Derek’s lips through his scruff as he sucked gently at Stiles’ index finger. A moment later Derek released Stiles completely, causing the teen to stumble back into a tree, squeaking loudly when he hit the bark. 

Derek stuck out his tongue and plucked a piece of wood off of it. Stiles’ splinter. Oh. 

“You’re being loud.” Derek grunted after he’d flicked the piece of wood away, not even acknowledging that he’d just sucked on Stiles’ finger. “And you’re about to collapse.” 

And well, way to suck the sexy out of the room. Stiles hated being called helpless, or weak, even if it was true 90% of the time. He pointed out his own fragility often, but that was mostly to get him out of doing something he didn’t want to, or out of consequences for his actions. But hearing Derek point out his exhaustion made him bristle, teeth on edge. 

“I’m fine, just because I can’t ballerina princess my way through the woods doesn’t mean I can’t look under rocks for trolls.” he snapped, defensive, and Derek just quickly flicked his brows up and down, Sourwolf’s version of rolling his eyes. 

“Fine. Walk.” 

It sounded like an order but Stiles supposed he couldn’t bristle, because Derek didn’t make questions sound like questions so his requests probably sounded like orders. Or at least that’s what Stiles tried to convince himself as he turned and stomped off, only to have the back of his shirt be ensnared in Derek’s grip. 

“Quietly.” Derek somehow managed to break a three syllable word down into like six, so Stiles just suck his tongue out and made a show of walking on his tip toes. Except his balance wasn’t so good at the moment so he promptly tipped over. And was saved. Again. By big strong hands that Stiles could not think about right now lest his sleep deprived brain bring up some of his more filthy dreams concerning Wolfbat. No, that didn’t work either. He’d think of something when he had more sleep. 

“I’m taking you home.” Derek said firmly, and before Stiles had a chance to get a protest out, he was being silence as he was scooped up and tossed over Derek’s shoulder like a bag of potatoes. He covered his ears with his hands when he saw Derek’s head tilt back and the deafening sound of him howling was blocked somewhat, so there was only mild ringing. “Search is over.” Derek clarified unnecessarily. 

“Yeah. Got that. I know what the howl means. I do pay attention to some stuff, you know. No one better have spilled the salt if they didn’t find anything. Do you know how long it takes to bless grains of salt individually? A long damn time.” 

He kept babbling as he hung helplessly over Derek’s shoulder, ass in the air, and resisted the slightly delirious urge to play Derek’s tight buttcheeks like bongos. But it was so tempting, because they were so very close. Just one little smack… 

Stiles was saved from his own bad decision making by Erica and Boyd, who ran up on either side of them, Erica laughing. 

“Looking good, Stilinski. Walk much.” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very clever, Erica. Really, very ‘pre-pubescent’ chic.” He snarked back, and turned his head to look at Boyd, who looked more than a little amused at Stiles’ undignified position. “Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up. We all know you want to be carried too. I am too special to walk, too prized.” 

“Too weak.” Erica cut him off. “Too human.” 

Stiles was all too ready to come back with a retort, when he thought of one, and he would have! And it would have been scathing! But Erica’s eyes flittered to Derek and she paused in her step, stumbling before sneering, “We’re going ahead, catch you guys later.” 

Barbie and Ken ran off together, lacing their fingers together when they thought they were out of sight. Why did they even pretend anymore, everyone knew they were fucking at the very least, but probably in love, actually. 

“Oh god, I’m making romantic comedy puns in my head.” he groaned, and didn’t even need to see Derek’s face to know that it was number 14, confused eyebrows. “I need sleep. Scott’ll drive me home.” No response. “Look, could you at least carry me differently if you’re not going to put me down? If you fart I might die from the stank.” 

Derek jerked to a stop, and Stiles put out his hands instinctively, getting two handfuls of bubbly, firm, perfectly sculpted butt for his attempting at saving himself from a concussion. He was shifted, easily as if he was made of cotton, and slung into a bridal carry. 

That was too much for his tired brain to handle and he giggled, deciding to just go with it as Derek continued running again. They’d walked far, and Stiles didn’t recognize the path, he guessed they were taking a shortcut or something. He looped his arms around Derek’s neck and rested his head on the curve of one broad shoulder. 

Now that he was closer to Derek’s torso, the bounce wasn’t as bad, and so he could close his eyes, listening to the steady beat of Derek’s heart. 

~ 

He woke up the next morning, jeans on the foot of his bed, shoes and socks placed on his desk chair. He didn’t mention it to anyone, but when he saw Derek the next day he smiled in thanks, and he swore that Derek’s lips even curled up a bit at the edges in response. Maybe he was just swallowing or something. But whatever. Smile delivered and accepted. That was progress. 

But all of that good will vanished when Derek and the pack all headed towards the doors to scout, and Derek held Stiles back with a hand on his chest. He would have noted how much Derek was touching him lately in a non violent way if he wasn’t immediately irritated. 

“I’m coming with you guys, I’m helping. You need as many eyes as possible.” 

“All of which will be useless if you’re stomping around.” 

Stiles’ mouth worked for a second and Derek pulled his arm back, “Go home. Sleep. Figure out how to find their den so we can trap and kill them.” 

And with that Derek left, and Stiles went home in a huff, passing out in a horrid mood and waking up at three in the morning, to the feeling of someone petting his hair back. He jerked up and looked at his window, which was open like he left it, with the wolfsbane seal in tact. Must have been a dream. He shut his door that his dad had left open when he came to check on him (as always) and went back to bed, managing to sleep dreamlessly. 

~ 

A week came and went, no more children were taken. Lydia suggested it was due to them getting close to their den. Like most mammals, they often stopped hunting when predators inclosed, as to not draw attention to themselves. So they’d bought themselves a little time. 

Stiles kept translating and guessing, narrowed down their search parameters to damp, mossy places and something with a lot of coverage. Shrubbery and the edges of swamp patches were prime territory and it narrowed their search considerably. But Stiles still wasn’t permitted to help, and he only found out Friday that Erica had been venomed Thursday night, and just like Peter it had taken her hours to heal from the burns. Everyone was getting agitated. It was much easier to deal with something if you could fight it, not just knowing it was there and never being able to see it.

Finally on Saturday (Stiles having argued to come along this time, as he had the most reference for scoping out their hiding places, having gone through all the books on them) they had a breakthrough. They discovered the den, well, Stiles discovered the den. By falling into it. 

It wasn’t his fault, and he would attest to that in court. Any court. Satan’s court. 

It was all because of Derek’s big stupid dumb face. And how Stiles kissed it.

After Stiles won the argument to be able to come along, Derek paired them all off, putting himself with Stiles. Of course, he probably wanted to shadow him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. 

Stiles was determined to show them all that he could troll hunt better than any of them. He had all the imagery in his head, knew what to look for to track them. They all split off to cover the last of the shrub and swamp areas in the Preserve and Stiles was walking quietly, much more rested now than last time. Overtime he tried to talk, Derek hushed him with a glare that could contend with Deaton’s. 

So they walked in silence, Stiles trailing closely behind the wolf. They reached their location fairly quickly and started looking through everything, overturning rocks for hidden holes, brushing away branches for small footprints or overturned earth. Nothing out of the ordinary, until something grabbed Stiles’ foot and he tripped, faceplanting into a big puddle of mud. 

Derek was over next to him in just a few seconds, Stiles pushing himself up and yelling hysterically, “They’re here, one grabbed me, they’re around here!” As he wiped thick mud from his face. Derek just looked at him doubtfully. 

“What? They’re here, one grabbed me, I felt it.” More silence, the pointed stare continued, “I’m not making this up, Derek, I didn’t fall over my own feet,” This time, “Something tripped me, start looking.” 

With a sigh Derek helped Stiles to his feet, careful not to get any mud on himself, “Let’s head forward, there’s a cluster of rocks ahead.”

Stiles gaped at him, “Are you not listening to me?! They’re here, we have to look here, maybe they’re under the mud!” 

Derek shook his head in exasperation and started walking forward, and in his frustration, Stiles took a big handful of mud off of himself and chucked it right into the back of Derek’s well groomed head. the mud hits its mark with a good, solid splat, dripping down the back of Derek’s fitted shirt. 

Stiles can’t help but laugh then, a full bodied laugh that has him clutching his stomach as Derek turns around, incensed and obviously more than a little surprised. Stiles is still covered in mud, so he’s not fearing retribution. He expects it when Derek comes back to him and slams him into a tree. 

He can’t stop laughing, and he smeared a muddy hand down Derek’s growling face, which caused the wolf to pause, eyes going wide in shock. And then Stiles began whispering, “Mud on your face, you big disgrace, someone’s gonna put ya back into yoooouurrr-“ His singing turned into a scream as he was tossed into the mud, and when he spluttered his way to sitting, he saw Derek standing over him, smiling smugly. 

Smiling. Stiles’ heart may or may not have fluttered. 

“Oh no you didn’t!” Stiles grabbed another handful of mud and lobbed it, Derek dodging to the side, but he didn’t account for Stiles’ horrible aim and it hit him in the shoulder. Stiles started laughing again, getting to his feet, and falling forward as the mud sucked at his sneakers. 

One thing to know is that Stiles is taller than you might think, all lanky dorkiness, and he personally thinks that the universe made him so flaily just because of his long limbs. And Derek, for al his looming and glooming, is shorter than you’d think, so when Stiles fell forward on to his chest, they’re eye to eye. 

Stiles was still giggling as he shook his head like a dog to splatter it all over Derek’s face before noting that Derek’s mouth was free of mud. And well, that couldn’t be right. 

The rational part of his mind made a quick plan to smear his hand over Derek’s mouth and chin, but the much larger, romantic, impulsive, stupid (stupid stupid) part of him went nope, and promptly went rogue. 

So that’s how Stiles found himself leaning forward and locking their lips together. Well, actually, just sort of putting his lips on Derek’s, and a split second later realizing that Derek was frozen in place and Stiles had mud on his face and wow, deeply inappropriate, uncalled for and just plain gross too. 

Stiles abruptly let go of where his hands were clasping Derek’s shoulders, stumbling back quickly, mouth making a lot of noises that didn’t quite make it to being words or phrases or any kind. So focused on he with backing out, that he forgot he had just stepped out of mud, and promptly slipped in it. 

He yelped and tried to recover, taking a couple stumbling steps to the side before gravity took its victory and brought him crashing to the ground into some ferns. 

Or rather, through some ferns and through the ground. He felt lightly packed earth under him crack and give in as he tumbled into a shallow sort of cave. A den, of sorts, if you would. 

And a foot away was a three foot tall, hunched goblin thing, looking just as shocked that Stiles was there as Stiles was at actually being there. 

Stiles acted on instinct, punching the thing as hard as he could, and it buckled backwards, clutching its ugly nose “I was right I was right they’re here, I found it!” But Derek was already moving. 

He reached into the hole and pulled Stiles out of it, tossing him out of the way and shoving the salt into his hand as he did so. Stiles wiped his muddy hands off on a dry patch of his jeans as the little horrid creatures began popping up from all around and converging. Derek had his claws out, and once they saw that Derek wasn’t just an unfortunate human that had stumbled across them, they started running. But it was too late. 

Stiles took pinches of salt and threw them wide, in a big arch, turning in a circle and creating a perimeter with the blessed grains. The Erklings shrieked and started to jump around, trying to keep their feet off the ground, flying into a panic as the salt touched them and burned their skin. They couldn’t run. Stiles heard the other wolves running towards them, and Stiles slumped against a tree. 

It was kind of funny actually, a dozen or so stumpy green things dancing around frantically, and when one got close to him, Stiles kicked it as hard as he could, punting the thing into the air. Issac arrived on scene first and started taking off heads, using his claws to remove throats, sprays of black green blood spraying out.. Scott was next, grimacing a little at the sight of the gore, but no. That’s wasn’t blood, was it? 

“It’s their venom, Issac!” Stiles screamed it a moment before Issac yelled out in pain, the green gunk covered his arms and began to burn through the skin of his arms. That was exponentially more than Peter or Erica had been hit with. “Don’t rip their throats, don’t!” Stiles yelled as Erica and Boyd arrived on scene, them and Derek taking to killing the rest of the things while Scott ran to Issac and started trying to wipe it off with his bare hands. The idiot. 

“You idiot!” Stiles kicked another out of his way and right into the path of Derek’s claws and ran to them, grabbing Issac’s shoulders and shoving him into the mud. Scott looked at him incredulously, but Stiles hastened to explain, “Use the mud to get it off him, you’ll just burn your hands too!” 

Sure enough, the venom sizzled through the mud, but there was so much of it in the swampy area that there wasn’t much left to burn Issac or Scott. Scott’s palms were singed and Issac would take a while to recover but it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. The fighting was over, their little torn apart corpses leaking venom and black blood into the swamp. They all helped clean, letting the Erklings sink to the bottom of the swamp, and kicking the mud around so the venom couldn’t hurt anything. 

Once they were all done, Peter appeared, leaning casually against a tree. “Thank god that’s over.” He snarked and Stiles shot him a glare, which was met with a smirk. No one responded, Stiles had taken off his overshirt to wipe Issac’s arms down as much as possible, but the wounds needed to be rinsed so they could heal. 

But Stiles was still soaked through with mud and the night was cool, and he started to shiver. They began to walk back, and when Derek came up beside him, he flashed him a smile. “Well, job well done. See, if I hadn’t been here, you would have just moved right along and never found them. Why do you question my genius, Derek?” 

The alpha just shook his head, but the look in his eyes was fond and his eyebrows were relaxed. That was a new expression. Number 37. Stiles would classify it as the ‘you frustrating genius you’ look. 

“You’re cold.” Was the only reply he got, which was a total agreement in Stiles’ opinion. 

“Yeah, well, I’m scrawny, it happens.” He shrugged, dismissing it, but then his shoulders were weighed down by a heavy arm, and Stiles tensed before relaxing. He was too wrung out, emotionally and physically to freak out. So he just slumped into him, enjoying his body heat. God, the wolf was like a radiator. 

He giggled, “Are you gonna tell me your secret identity now? Your bat cave?” He looked up at Derek, still laughing, and Derek just stared at him blankly. Well then. 

They walked all the way back, Erica and Boyd ahead as usual, Issac and Scott lingering behind. Probably talking about how Alison was going to kick both of their stupid asses. Lydia was just going to call Stiles an idiot. 

They reached the cars and Derek left Stiles to get into his own, Issac and Scott piling into the jeep. They drove to Scott’s first, letting Melissa clean up her two idiots. Stiles parked the car and heaved a sigh, mourning the interior of his jeep, he’d have to get it cleaned. 

He snuck in, showering thoroughly and grabbing a pair of boxers to pass out in once he chucked his clothes in the laundry. He dabbed some ointment on the slight burns he got some putting his hands in the mud with the venom before collapsing on his bed. Disaster solved. Maybe they could have a whole week of peace, that would be great. 

He’d deal with the rising panic about kissing Derek tomorrow, right now, he needed sleep. 

~ 

The next day came with some rationalizing. As did the next few. Derek probably thought that Stiles had just fallen forward and their mouths pressed together, or that Stiles had momentarily had a hallucination that Derek was Lydia or something and kissed him mistakenly. Or maybe he was just saving Stiles’ pride. Hey! Maybe the fall had given Stiles a concussion and he imagined the whole thing. 

All equally viable options. 

The pack met Wednesday, Issac was healed, the goblins’ bodies were long gone and everything seemed to be clear. Boyd had even gotten some of the venom for Deaton to study in the salt jars that they’d emptied upon arrival on scene. Except Scott, which was nice, because Stiles kind of wanted a memento of his hours of work. 

Erica could shove it, wolves might have had strength and speed, but that didn’t mean shit if there wasn’t someone doing Stiles’ work to get the information. Technically Stiles’ job could be done by anyone in the pack but whatever, that was his job and no one else wanted it, so he was valuable. Even if it was only accidentally. 

Stiles was chatting with Scott about the limitations and possible moral fallouts of the Lasso of Truth when Derek walked into the loft, looking grumpy and sexy as ever. 

His eyes slid over Stiles like it was any other day and Stiles found himself with an odd mix of emotions. On one hand he felt like he was being viciously stabbed in the gut. Hadn’t the snuggle walk back meant something? All of his rationalizing flew out the window and he was forced to admit the pathetic hope that he wished that maybe something would happen. That it had been more than Derek making sure Stiles didn’t die from hypothermia on his watch. That is was the Derek way of returning the kiss. 

And on the other hand he felt relief. This wasn’t going to be a big deal, he hadn’t fucked anything up, Derek didn’t hate him. He waited through the brief discussion and report, saying that Stiles’ theory was right, they did come from Germany as eggs and Deaton would set up parameters to make sure an infestation like this didn’t happen again. 

Lydia filed her nails and looked bored as she reported that there had been rumours about some college girls vanishing the next town over and she’d keep an eye on it. With a cry for pizza, the pack got up and left, except for Stiles and Derek. Derek turned to head up the stairs, and Stiles lingered awkwardly in the main room, pacing and fidgeting. 

He couldn’t just leave, the knife was a lot more painful than the wash of relief and he just wanted this settled, he wanted to know what exactly was going through Derek’s thick head. Derek stayed upstairs, but he must have known Stiles was there, from smell if not the noise. So why was he… 

“Are you avoiding me, Derek Hale?” Stiles asked to the quiet penthouse, and silence replied. With silence. Obviously. “Wow. You are totally avoiding me. You could just like, tell me not interested. That’s cool. You are like Batman.” He turned away to go stomp out and stop by the corner store to consume a couple of pints of Ben and Jerry’s to consume. 

“What is with you and Batman?” Came Derek’s gruff voice and Stiles whipped around as Derek came down the stairs, looking a little defensive. The eyebrows weren’t lay flat, so he wasn’t fooling Stiles with the pretend blasé look. 

“Because you are Batman, you’re handsome and rich and broody and have a tragic, heartfelt backstory. You’re werewolf Batman.” He crossed his arms over his chest and Derek blinked at him for a long moment. Silence stretched on and Stiles’ will to stay silent broke. “So what the fuck is up with you. Like the finger sucking and the mud fight and I kissed you and you’re not doing anything about it and I just want to know what the fuck is going on.” 

Derek stared him down before stepping forward a little, and Stiles took a step back instinctively. “What do you want me to do about it.” 

Another step forward. Another step back. Stiles licked his lips nervously, “I don’t know, dude, you must know how much of a thing I have for you and just a plain yes or no would do great. I don’t work so well with grey areas. My mind isn’t designed for it.” 

Another step forward. Another step back. Stiles was pressed against a wall now, and Derek didn’t stop advancing, until he was an inch away from Stiles, leaning his head in a bit, 

“Is this answer enough.” Derek’s voice was somehow impossible deeper, rougher, and oh my god, yes, if this is a dream don’t pinch him because Derek fucking Hale was going to k-

The front door to the loft swung open with a bang, Scott standing there looking frazzled and distressed, “Another kid is missing!” He yelled before pausing, taking in the scene before him, but Derek was already stepping away, no more sexy voice, all business. 

“Who is it. Where were they taken.” 

Scott looked between Stiles and Derek for another moment before focusing on the more pressing issue at hand. “My mom just called to tell me, his parents came in in a panic, thinking that they might have left him in the hospital. But there’s footage of them taking him out.” 

The pack was on red alert again and romantic endeavours were put aside to try and solve this. Stiles talked it out with Lydia and they went through the texts again. They found a passage on young Erklings that Stiles hadn’t looked at before and Stiles had to call Scott saying that the Erklings were too young to be eating that many human children. A dozen would have taken one, and that would last them for weeks. But most young Erklings didn’t have the strength or coordination in the group to trap human children, they mostly ate frogs and other swamplife. 

They went back to where they’d found the den last night and scoured for bones, clothing, anything. It took a little longer because Stiles had to talk Scott down from a panic of why they hadn’t searched for the kids in the first place. Guilt wasn’t helpful at the moment. There wasn’t any sign of children that were taken and eaten, instead just some squirrel skeletons and a few parts of several frogs. 

It wasn’t the Erklings who had done it. 

It was good they were dead, they would have been a much bigger threat later if they’d waited. But now… they had no idea where to start. 

They backtracked through everything they knew. All the kids were between the ages of four and six, all were taken in parking lots or parks, public places that they’d assumed kids heard the Erklings laughing and wandered off. But they were also places that it was easy to lose track of them for a moment, perfect for someone to swoop in and… 

“We have to consider the fact that this may not be a supernatural kind of monster, guys. This may just be…” 

“It may just be your old regular kind of kid killing human monster.” Peter chimed in and Stiles rolled his eyes, Scott making a sickened face and Erica looked ready to kill something while Boyd put a soothing hand on her shoulder.   
“Which means that this is something we have to leave to the cops.” Stiles finished and the words physically pained him to say. It was a different situation, and it wasn’t that Stiles didn’t think that whatever creepy fuck who stole children deserved to get their throat torn out, because they totally did. But the pack could be arrested, they would be dealing with humans, interfering with systems already set in place to fix this. It didn’t mean they couldn’t help, but werewolves and banshees or not, they were kids. They had no police training. Overall, there was nothing they could do here. 

It broke out into arguments then, Stiles contributing as much as anyone else, and it ended with Scott walking out angrily, Alison going after him to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. 

Peter left a few minutes later with a muttered comment about finding a scent, and one by one the pack filtered out until it was just Stiles and Derek again. But there was nothing romantic about this frustration, nothing anticipatory. Just tense, a feeling of uselessness. Stiles dropped his head back against the back of the couch. Derek started his way and Stiles opened his eyes. 

“You the cuddling sort?” He asked with a teasing smile, “I mean, I can see it.” His teasing came off stiff and Derek didn’t bother even twitching his brows, he just sat down beside Stiles and put his arm out across the back of the couch. Stiles decided that was invitation enough and shifted to rest against Derek’s side, breathing in his scent, which was fresh, like how a garden after a good rain. 

He noticed Derek discreetly sniffing him too and smiled a little. Derek was still so warm and Stiles nestled a little into him, enjoying the warm solidity of him. When something brushed across his hand, his eyes opened again and glanced up at Derek, who was hiding his eyes in Stiles’ hair as his hand tentatively covered Stiles’. But Stiles turned his hand over and slid their fingers until they were laced, and promptly relaxed deeper into the curve of his shoulder. 

It was nice, sitting close like that. Just enjoying Derek’s presence, not having to think about anything. The almost kiss from before had played in Stiles’ mind over the last few hours about one thousand times. But thinking about what might be happening in Beacon Hills kind of put a damper on the kissing mood. But this… this was good. Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand a little, and Derek squeezed it back and yeah. 

This was just fine. 

~ 

The next month was tense for everyone. The pack helped out the investigation as much as they could. Catching scents, investigating leads and then leaving anonymous tips. It let them all feel like they were doing something about this, after having wasted so much time because they assumed every problem in Beacon Hills was supernatural. 

The pack didn’t interact much and surprisingly, the big breakthrough came from Peter, who found a solid lead on a guy who had been at all locations and tipped off the cops. 

And Derek, well. He seemed to be mostly okay with it. There were a few more cuddling session on the couch and once on Stiles’ floor when Derek caught him in the middle of a panic attack. Once Stiles calmed down, he turned to look incredulously at Derek.   
“How did you get through the window?” Stiles asked, brows furrowing, “It’s were-proofed.” Patent pending. 

Derek avoided his eyes, untangling himself from where he’d been holding Stiles on the floor, “If you know where the rod is, you can knock it loose. Break the circle.” 

Stiles considered that for a moment before shrugging and getting up, legs feeling a bit jelly like. “So, my dad says that they have the guy in custody and they’re going to bust him. They’re looking for the kids right now. They have no reason to think any of them are dead.” 

Derek nodded, inching towards the window. Stiles watched him, and as Derek’s hand braced on the glass to swing out, Stiles blurted, “So what is this?” 

The alpha paused, shoulders hunching inwards, like he’d been dreading the question, but Stiles kept talking, 

“Because I want this to be something, I mean, I like you. A lot. And it really seemed like you were going to kiss me and all of the cuddling and… what is this?” 

Derek turned around to face Stiles, his lips thin and brows drawn in. Number 22. Nervous and trying not to run. Stiles had first seen it when Peter had come back and claimed to be all better. Stiles watched him take a deep, bracing breath and coming forward in two big steps, sliding his fingers into Stiles’ hair and drawing him into a kiss. 

Stiles melted into it, hands fluttering a bit before resting on Derek’s arm and holding on tight. Derek’s lips were surprisingly soft and now that they were clean, Stiles could really taste him. 

His lips parted automatically and the kiss deepened slowly, luxuriously, and when Stiles pulled away, his head was a little dizzy. Derek looked oddly vulnerable, open and hesitant for Stiles’ response. So, of course, Stiles laughed, which wasn’t the best course of action. But then he grinned and kissed Derek again, arms locking tight around his neck so they were chest to chest as they lost themselves in it. 

Derek broke it this time, and he dropped his head to breathe in Stiles’ scent, and the teen laughed again, warm and affectionate, “I read you loud and clear, captain.” He teased and squealed at Derek’s teasing bite to his neck. 

“So, what are we gonna tell my dad?” 

~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to contact me at Theonlyheir.tumblr.com. Kudos and comments make me heart warm.


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